Remnants 




& 
Palette Scrapi|igs 



Keinnants 

Imprefsio7is 

Pallette Scrapmgs 




CHARLES WILLIAM MAC CORD 



BRIDGEPORT, CONNECTICUT. 
MDCCCLXXXVII 



.«sri 






GIFT 
BERTRAM SMITH 

DEC 8 1933 



" Veriini 

Nihil securius est maio pacta.'' 



L h ::. O I R. 

Gray bosomed mists obscure the sea, 
A dismal fog o'erhangs brown woods ; 
Oh, Nature in thy solitudes 

We fain would lose our souls in thee ! 
Thine ample arm embraceth men, 
Peasant and prince are turned again 

To worm-gnawed leaflets on Life's tree. 

The blood-red sun shines on the beach, 

On mossy rocks the curlews cry ; 

Blue distant hills in mystery 
Stand fi-rm alone : their silent speech 

Would win from man his feeble heart ; 

Though shielded fast by every art 
A storm-swept hillock waits us each ! 



MA Y D E W. 

I. 

Across the moor, all pale and passionless, ' 

Save where wan night's last shim 'ring tears 
despair 

To catch the rosy robust morn's sweet air. 
In vap'rous wreaths they freely find access 
To grewsome clouds that bank the desertness 

Of green blue sky in clusters, leaving bare 

Their tinctured edges for the dawn's white 
glare, 
'Tis then the wand'rer vainly would express 

His theme of Love the conq'ror over Death ; 
When glist'ning red the day leaves at sun's set 

Who doth not build himself an house of wo ? 

The morrow's morn discerns it not beneath ; 
Oh, sweetest Hebe may thine magic yet 

Rebuild our manse of joy before we go ! 



11. 

Where on the mead the warm rich shadows lay 

Begemm'd by drops — pearls by an angel 

wept — 
The clouds that wrapped the day-god while he 
slept 
Are thrust aside by thy fair hands, O May, 
And lighted by thine only lamp of truth 
The gray green woods rekindle Oaring youth, 
The redd ning buds portend the flowers to be ; 
So when the irksome ire of destiny, 

Fame, that the spirit loathing turns to ruth, 
Joy, and the souls that only meet to part, 
Ah, could the spring tide of the saddened 
heart 
Unto thy bosom all its sorrows bring. 

Then would the clouds of weariness depart 
And Scirum-like, 'gainst stars our arrows wino- ! 



III. 

Now gay and golden see the rising sun ! 

Both field and flood are streaked with russet 
red ; 
Yon brookside willows, swathed in robes of dun, 

Blithe green and garish raise their crested 
head. 

No more on zenith burns Athene's white, 
But vermil tinted are the morn's fair cheeks, 

The rainbow cobwebs sparkling with delight 
Receive the incense which the blossom reeks. 

Ail things are gladsome — yet ye little know 
Of Nature's depths, nor can the myst'ry sound 

From whence ye came and whither ye will go. 
The shining dewdrop smiling on the ground, 

Each globe reflects a perfect sun most rare, 

V'ain man ! thy puny mind with this compare ! 



lO 



MORNING. 

Morn's sky is fresh toned like a sea shell 
With green and with red and with blue. 

The convict now hears in his grim cell 
The hammers their death sounds renew 



1 1 



S A MP M O R TA R ROCK. 

AN IMPRESSION. 

Gray silver clouds in azure sk)^ 

Their shadows cast o'er hill and vale, 
Far in brown woods like phantoms pale 

Wan tree-trunks pierce blue mystery ; 

These paths were once the red man's haunts, 
A refuge from the foeman's taunts. 

Here met they 'neath their council tree. 

What sturdy braves once trod these hills 
Ere Sorrow climbed yon purple rocks ! 
Their homxcs now shield the tawny fox : 

Where vi'let light the dead leaf chills, 
Their women crushed rich yellow maize 
On yonder height, where oft Vv'-e gaze 

O'er storm-swept tree tops whose harp stills 



12 



The brooklet's murmur and yon throng 
Of insect-worlds 'neath shapely beech ; 
Cool gray-green fern their lesson teach, 

The throstle trills his matin song, 

While waxen buds their incense give. 
And see, the fallen birch twigs heave, — 

A slimy adder glides along ! 



13 



SPRING. 

The dull plow turns the rich brown earth, 
White blossoms laugh aloud with mirth, 
The dandelion's golden sun 
Hangs o'er a grave just new begun. 



./ ,\^ O C TO B li R DA y . 

Rich rustling reds and russets of old oak 

Commingling with warm ochre colored leaves 
Warm masses m.ake, through which blue sky 
inweaves, 

While o'er the dome, shaped like a giant's cloak 

Gray solemn clouds the gladsome sun invoke. 
On hillside backed by mysteries of shade 
Wan willows bend e'en as their glories fade ; 

'Cross tangled brake which strives the brook to 
choke 

Long shadovv's stretch upon the dusty road. 

With olive tints the yellow mead is strowed 
And melancholy sweeps the sobbing wind 

Through forest depths whose hectic flushes bode 
Grim Winter's reign — e'en like rich gold re- 
fined 
To deck the neck of Beauty, cold, unkind ! 



SUNSET IMPRESSIONS. 

The wa,y to heav'n doth lead through hell, 
The road of life leads on to death, 
E'en brightest flowers have noxious breath ; 

Thus mused I while the passing bell 
Discordant struck the fragrant air 
At eventide, one summer fair 

Stretched prone upon bright verdant fell. 

The yellow sun sinks down the west 
His lances bright against the sky 
As joysome home brown sparrows fly: 

Old willows gray see lovers test 

Each other's troth with falsehood's fears ; 
Then mused I : — Through our path of years 

To summon woe be Hym_en's guest. 



i6 



SUNSET ON THE SOUND. 

A circling cliff with stubborn grass engrown 

Shades shingly beach, where rolling wavelets 
smite 

The flotsam's amber gems. 'Yond tinted 
height, 
O'er which white gulls for ages past have flown 
The salty breeze enwraps the day-star's throne, 

E'en like a wheel whose hub of topaz bright 
Hath clouds for spokes of brilliant fiery tone : 

Bright scarlet patches vainly strive to ease 
The sinking orb, which burns in discontent 

And opal tints the vast unquiet sea. 
Gray phantom shapes in distance seek that peace 

Which Nature kind, the Giver opulent 

Vouchsafes to all v\'ho mark her stern decree. 



17 



A T THE PANTOMIME. 

Fair Columbine now twinkles on the stage ; 
Loud ring the plaudits from the hoary sage ! 
The fopling's face is one sarcastic grin ; 
The clown's child dies, the painted scenes within. 



t8 



SUGGESTED BY A PAINTING OE 
CO ROT'S. 

Soft silver tones now tint the gray green grass 
With faery tinctures, like to fire on snow. 
High on the zenith mellow cloud forms blow ; 

Their shadows warm enrich the bleak morass 

Through which the Master oftentimes would pass 
To limn betimes the faint yet brilliant glow 

Of morning light, behind yon rustling mass 
Of shaking willows, where the peasants go 
To gather fagots when all Nature's still. 

Across the mere kingfishers wing their flight, 
Then all is hush'd : Dawn grows apace until 

There sounds beyond those hills of bluish light 
Th' Angelus, bell in monody so clear 
That from mine eyes I brush the stranger tear 
And in my heart I whisper, " Hope is here." 



19 



/ 



N E PE N THE. 

'Yond leafless bou";hs the sun sinks down the 

west, 

His last heart pang throbs on the icy air ; 

/^ Ah, troublous are the burdens that we bear 

/ In wintry paths^ through which we toil to rest^ 

{ 

\ And dream of days when leaden skies were 

blue^ 

When hopes were youngs when Love the 

Master, too. 

In gilded chains first yoked us to his wain : 

Now tug and strive we feeble towards the 

breach 

Between the shafts list to our feeble speech 

Ah, could we taste the summer's joys again ! 

Drink Polydamna's cup — 
Then all forgot will be earth's feeble hum 
And dreams no more embitter life's short day, 
Our brows no more will crave the with'ring 
bay, 



For us the sands of time may cease to run — 

No more will visions of the great To Be 

Allure us by those sweetest fancies free, 
Beyond this world when free from pois'nous 

breath 
What joys our naked souls shall often prize ! 

For us this thought, as bow we to sweet Death 
That visions bright shall come before our eyes, 

But foretastes dim, as we the angels sight, 
Of blissful rest beneath our earthy mound. 

Nirwana sweet, is that our endless fate ? 

Alas ! and have we aeons yet to wait. 
And must the weary seasons make their round, 

And blacker yet grow heavy clouds of night? 
Bright lurid star that shines o'er life's dark sea 
Can e'er we lose our helpless selves in thee ? 
Drink Polydamna's cup. 



SHE O L. 

On Greenland's shore they tell me " Hell is 
cold," 

In Afric's swamps they tell me *' Hell is hot;" 
I think as I humanity behold 

What lukewarm Hells are all this happy lot ! 



GENIUS. 

Exalted by the sight of Beauty's sleep 

My feeble efforts make my fancies pale ; 

As piercing thro' dark night's bewild'ring gale 
The sailor sees a light shine on the deep, 
While subtler still the weird black shadows creep 

On ocean's face now hidden by night's veil ; 

But naught doth rouse yon grim sea from its 
bale. 
My idols now are tumbled in an heap, 

And e'en like bards who chant unmurmuring 
I fain would crave the Muses' opulence. 

Oh, Aspiration, art thou but the wing 
That floats diviner Inspiration hence? 

Despondency, art thou then but a thing 
Evolved from earth the creature of base sense ? 



^3 



EA STER MORN. 

Come rolling on the clouds of night and far 

On mountain steeps and sheltered vales below 

The darkness rests. The northern stars arise 

And rolling o'er the ocean's heaving breast 

They show their heads of fire through flying mist 

Of heav'n. In v^^oods just where the running sap 

Hath made to sprout and bud anew the elm, 

The regal oak and queenly birch with all 

Their numerous train, all these are bathed in tints 

Of silvern crystal from the rising moon. 

And see, the youthful trees bend down as if 

They knew the vigil time of the blest day. 

From the still waters of the wood skirt plain 

See nov/ ascend gray bosomed mists, and dank 

Are willow catkins and the vi'lets bud. 

Wide over lake and stream is poured anew 

The vapour deep and dark. The moon now like 

A shield is dimly swimming through its mighty 

Folds. 

24 



Nature hushed, save here and there is heard 
The voice of chanticleer, which Simon heard 
In ages gone, in far-off Jewry's land. 

Now from the east at last behold the ruby 
Light, not before an overpowering white 
Hath filled the orient. Changed are the sable 
Clouds to fleece of pearly gray which now rise 
High on zenith, and the moon, light of 
The silent night flies from the couriers of 
Th' lord of day. The clouds rejoice and dye 
Their folds in amber pure replenished new. 
And glow like costliest gems, uncut by man 
But carven by a mighty hand whose skill 
Artist, or painter, poet, can 
But feebly strive to catch a single touch, 
And that the world calls genius. 

The fresh 'ning green 
From out the mother earth is touched with 
Mirrors small of the new risen sun, and see. 
The faithful, who, the fast now ended, go 

25 



With joyful mien to chant their carols gay. 

-)f -X- -JS- * 

But stretched upon a new made grave astray 
From joyous songs, clasping a tomb-cross gray 
A maiden weeps her soul itself away. 






26 



PRESUMPTION, 

I place my name on Corot's own design : 
Philistia doth to Hades it resign ! 
On mine own work I Corot's name intwine 
Philistia's glad— "What Harmony divine ! " 



^7 



IV I IV T E R. 

The brooklet is sighing and sobbing 

In the gray and the green of the gloaming ; 

My heart in its prison Hes throbbing, 

The wind through the bleak trees is moaning. 

Ah, dark is the dreary December 

And brown lie the weeds on the sward, 

Love kindles my life's dying embers 
May angels e'er keep it in ward ! 



25 



THE WILLOW PATTERN 

A lordly seat 
With wealth replete ; 
'Neath peach-tree sweet 
A pavilion. 

A willow tree ; 
'Cross bridge we see 
A cottage free. 

The scriv'ner's son 

Importunate 

Would knov/ his fate, 

Then 'gan to prate 

" I love Li Chi 

" But thee alone" — 
Just then a groan 
As o'er his zone 

The stout rods fly ! 

Alas ! poor Chang 
Thy brief harangue 
By old Chi's gang 

Would silenced be ; 



29 



The gods just then, 
rSuch handy men) 
Waged two to ten 

The pair they'd free. 

Hey, presto, change! 
And two doves range 
Above the grange 

And fly away ! 

Then willow leaves 
Their bough bereaves; 
This tale relieves 

Like virelay, 

Such questions soft 
As ^' Why aloft 
You hang the croft 

Of willow pattern?" 



30 



EVEN. 

A yellow sunset bathes with gold 
Rich grassy dells and purpling wold ; 

The mellow bell sounds vesper hour 
And false souls tryst in leafy bower! 



DA WN. 

When first the infant Day doth ope his eyes 
And with the past prepare to take his stand, 
What hidden shapes he sees on every hand 

As on the porch unwilhng, weak he lies ! 

Ah, Night, hov/ many be thy mysteries ! 
As by the sea uncounted is the sand, 
That kissed by surf doth welcome to the land 

The vi'let waters reaching bound of skies, 
Which calml)/ wait with grim expectancy 

The Sungod's lash to bid his cattle rise : 
Oh endless shore ! Oh tireless sapphire sea 

O'er which the fisher's net hath oft been drawn, 
What hast thou m the new old great To Be, 

Doth weal or woe receive the saffron Dav/n ? 



A UTUMN MORNING, 

The steel blue river ripples on its way 

And stirring are yon willows gray clad boughs; 
Their shadows warm the parched-up fell endows 
With rich pure tints that presage mild decay. 
On rock-set hills brown hemlocks graceful sway, 

Beyond old oaks the dappled cattle browze. 

Far 'yond the road an ochre-coloured house 
Reflects the glories which from gold clouds stray ; 

By moss grown mounds we oftentimes would 
pause 
And strive to kill our soul's destroying thought ; 

From chimneys red the pearly sky dome draws 
A purpure smoke by fairy fingers wrought, 

(E'en as we gaze the worm undying gnaws) 
In golden mansions which resolve to naught. 



Z?> 



THE LA UREA TE. 

A bard has been changed to a baron ! 

A chalice once stood on an altar ; 
And now — though you see not a scar on 

Its niello — holds red vinegar. 



LA N DSC A PR 



Warm tinted clouds illume the sky 
Their edges tinged with opal fire ; 
I stroll through tangled brake and brier 

And see the distant streamlet vie 

With em'lous tones the heav'ns to drown, 
The herbage clad in richest brown 

In sullen mood is trembling shy. 

n. 

Oh, joysome August afternoon I 
Glad children play in happy glee 
From carksome care and sorrow free, 

The homing bee in happy swoon 
Is sinking on the clover's breast, 
Ah, do not now her trance molest 

Nirvana-like I crave such boon ! 



35 



III. 

The dun gray cows across the stream 
With sweet breath scent the heavy air 
Their shadows note a color rare; 

Like jewels bright the wild flow'rs gleam 
Adown the banks so gold-red gay, 
That scarcely thinking one would stray 

And happy walk in blissful dream ! 



* * 
^ 



36 



TO IRELAND. 

Sweet Innisfail, bright em'rald of the sea 

The night descends in sorrow on thy shore 

The morn returns grief-laden for thee more 
As Morven's daughters wept Cormac for thee ! 

Oh, holy isle of Columb*s sainted towers, 
Prime home of learning and religion's school, 
Why rest supinely by the turbid pool ? 

Where are the stars that shone bright through 
the hours 
When to thy feet barbarian nations came 

To taste of wisdom, culture and of art ? 

Are thy bards hush'd ? Can Tara's harp depart ? 
Left to thyself thou never hadst known shame ; 

Arise, ye Erse ! scour up Borurnha's brand ! 

Strike for your homes, your blood-bought 
fatherland ! 



But A¥ho are these like bounding roes that come 

While Doira's hill reflects a yellow sun ? 

Like valley oaks their stature scarce begun 
As falling water is their mighty hum ! 

Thy race untrodden by the Saxon's heel 
Will once again, unstretching suppliant palms 
Give to the world her grateful kindly alms ; 

Democracy ! thou name that tyrants' steel 
Can ne'er blot out when painted on the heart, 

With mighty tread thy hosts stride on in file 
Of freemen brave who all have drank erewhile 

From waters pure unsullied by the mart. 
The people rise on every side at length 
E'en as pure gold returns to fire its strength. 

-X- -Jf 



3^ 



IN A CONVENT. 

Deep shadows fall dark from the pine, 
The sisters chant sweet 'round the shrine, 
A priest doth bless the kneeling throng, 
But still my soul cries out " How long?" 



MIDNIGHT, 

Ensanguined clouds with ruddy glare, 
Warm green blue sky streaks peep afar, 
Through purple masses gleams a star, 

While o'er the russet Avaters flare 

Bright red gold lines whose shimm.ers jar 
The mellow damps on washed up spar 

Which strew the shingle wan and bare : 

Tall slender grasses rank and crude 
Just 'yond the sea-line by the dune, 
Sway to and fro in mystic tune. 

There joysome lovers fain exclude 
The world and all its cares jejune 
To blissful moments importune, 

While new toss'd hay ricks scents exude. 

Oh, voiceless dread and mystery 
What is that far-off hidden sound ? 
The waves m.ay moan like weary hound. 



40 



Yet to thy bosom, grim old sea, 

You bring the secrets of that mound 
.Although a thousand black wrecks frown'd, 
They pledge each other constancy ! 

I^ow rising gold the harvest moon 
Entinctures sea line argent pure 
In glories which white sails immure, 

As lips are touch'd in night's still noon 
Two souls in Love's embrace secure, 
Now all ye shining heav'ns conjure 

Your hosts to grant their long'd for boon ! 



41 



NINON. 

Gray eyes with dreamings dolorous 
Of gay things garnered like gold grain, 
Sweet lips perverted cajol'd pain 

Soft voice with tears turned tremulous — 

Thou'rt but a tyrant treacherous 

Who doth with crownings cruel curse ! 
I'll ne'er my pois'ning passion nurse 

To rend on rack so ravenous ! 



SYMPHONY IN WHITE, No. /. 

Her alabaster hands with tips like dew 

Which rustles o'er a pallid lily's cheek, 

On iv'ry keys the subtle harm'nies seek, 
Now sweet and low, now flashing into view, 

E'en as lost stars the marble dawns inflame 
With gold white shafts that wing far down the 

south. 
Like orient pearls her teeth illume a mouth 

Pomegranate toned — anchoret's risk defame 
Such fruit to taste, though brings it bitterness. 

Quest bound for Grail, the Knight of pious 
lance 

Would fain on snowy couches spend in trance 
Ignoble days, sweet pris'ner in distress. 

Rise up, my soul ' Bepluck once more thy 
brand,. 

Nieht is her heart the' aroent be her hand. 



* * 
* 



43 



SYMPHONY IN WHITE, No, 2. 

On chalken cliffs beswept by salt breeze rude, 

(White crested waves far 'neath in chanting 
swell 

Roll on white sands : the sea gulls snowy brood 

Cry o'er white sheep that rest on daisied fell,) 

'Yond bloss'ming hill the white haired sisters 
dwell, 

Pale hawthorn flow'rs bloom o'er their life's un- 
rest ; 

'Tis compline hour: the sweet voiced convent 
bell 

To prayer invites the women ail white dress'd. 

The gray white tower is viewed far out at sea 

From galleys white by seamen making sail ; 

The bell they hear through blanching mist ; 
the knee 

Is bent on shore, — guilt's load is burthensome: 

The trav'ler, tempest toss'd, begins to pale 

As 'bove the'sands white spectres beckon dumb ! 



44 



A PICTURE. 

Rich rainbow glass, rare tropic fruits from far, 
White samite cloth, red wine in silvern jar, 
A loving pair in dalliance take their ease — 
Behind the arras scorned eyes glare on these ! 

* 



45 



O U T R E M E R. 

I. 

The edges of gray angry clouds beguile 

O'er storm swept ocean, mar'ners prone to 
dream 
Of scenes in port, where bask they full in smile 

Of deep dark eyes whose shining glances beam 
E'en as the sun, gold red at close of day 

Treading again his gloried path of years 
Transfigures sky and sea with precious ray ; 

And thou, Athene, dost in spite of tears 
From holy eyes of virgins pure now flown, 

(Ah, whither, still we crave and cry in vain) 
Doth gild dark truths with lights of sweetest 
tone 

Reflected from the flames that burn again, 
Th' modern Inquisition fires that gleam 
Like staves of brass adown the fath'mless 
stream. 



46 



11. 

Poor shipwrecked soul, would'st strive with 
dulcet strains 

From pipes of Pan to sooth thy murmuring ? 

See from Hope's raft the wretched voy'ger 
spring 
And sink in brine blue caverns for his pains : 

For him no light, his life no sacrament. 
From darksome times when infant worlds began 
And Chaos rolled aside the door for man, 

Drifting upon a shoreless sea, all rent 
Fair sails, alone, lashed to the mast, resigned 

To lose himself in nature unrenewed. 

Still on the past his warmest fancies brood — 
Of Art and Knowledge and the monkish mind — 

Arise ! my brother why this face of woe ? 

Drink Beauty's cup, 'tis all we know. 



* He 



A THUNDER STORM. 

» 

I. 

The thunder sounds in distance far away, 

Night's rule is o'er — the white clad dawn is 
near. 

Hesphoros, star to Nature's children dear, 
Shows not his points, wherefore the scoffers say- 
That through the mist divided by the play 

Of chilly winds which whisper in the ear 

Of Science and of Art, wan shades appear 
And show their forms in irksome light of day. 

Ahj lovely voices calling from the dead, 
Where are ye now ? Where might the Aiden be 

Where resting sweet the great earth-mother's 
heart 
Receives her own ? Then shall it oft be said 

What were the truths they would to us impart, 
Portend they joy or ill eternally? 



48 



[I. , 

Oh, mighty Vulcan, dost thou ever die ? 

Art thou ahve and dost thou know the truth 

Of early dawn and morn of Time uncouth ? 
Yon thunder cloud is but man's heart-felt sigh ! 
As for ourselves we gladly bid good-bye 

To phantom myths, that silly children soothe 

Their puny fears with, while they look with 
ruth 
On purple hills where nathless would they fly. 

Be thou removed thou empty wanton fear ! 
Not for ourselves do we the storm clouds dread 

But gladly list we, if perchance we hear 
Above the crash as fall the idols down, 

''And art thou weary? Martyrs make thy 
bed," 

" Dost thou seek fame? With emp'rors share 
the crown." 



49 



III. 
Oh worldly man, would'st thou the impulse balk 
And still in mire enjoy thy wallowing? 
The shew-bread stands, that mystic sacred 
thing 
From year to year, while skeptics vainly talk 
Of things unknown as through the world they 
stalk. 
Oh, lovelier than a painted angel's wing 
Is Hyacinth the favored flower of Spring : 
The boy who would with great Apollo walk 
Zephyrus with a blow deprived of breath 
And sent him on his lonely pilgrimage. 
Now once a year we greet upon life's stage 
His blood returned, a blossom from the dust 
Whose petals hold the stripling's name in 
trust. 
Who knows what buds shall blossom after death ? 



50 



IV. 

In vain we strive our fellow fools to lead ; 

Our cankered selves give us the greatest pain. 

The five barred gate of sense which closes gain 
Of mysteries on which disciples feed, 
Shuts out our light, though like a feeble reed 

Each prison bar holds back the fancies vain, 

Yet fig tree's fruit from thistles poets fain 
To gather, though the great wide world hath 
need 

Of lilies fair, of holy chords that strain 
The lyres of mind that rapture all the heart. 

The canvas waits the pigment once again 
The thistles cause the tender feet to smart, 

The outer man proves oft the deadly, bane 
And as we die we 'gin to learn our part ! 






THE TR UE A ND BEAU TIF UL . 

Oh Nature what a monster fiend thou art, 
What crimes dost thou commit upon a scale 
That puts to blush thy puny creatures pale ! 

Justice and mercy, ne'er a thought apart. 

Sunshine and plenty, peace throughout the 
vale 

At once are changed by subtle earthquake 
shock. 
One moment pure, then of revolting filth, 
Can'st tell thy virtues though with pious tilth 

We search thy page and sinful find thy stock ? 
Eternal crime is carved in bawdy wealth 

Of sacred truth, that wretched stumbling block : 
Thy deeds show darker than the hordes of sin 

That tramp thy highways mingling with yon 
flock 

So fair to sight and yet so foul within. 



TO A LANDSCAPE ARTIST. 

Oh, painter ! by thy art depict at will 

The morning's early dawn, the noon's full ray, 
The sunset's glow, mysterious twilight's gray, 

Chaste Isis beaming from her plains so still, 

The forest's green beside the gurgling rill, 
Spring-tide and autumn's russet smoky day : 
Oh poet ! from the muse pour forth the lay 

Of hopes now dead, the hidden joys that thrill 
The heart of man: then turn and tune thy 
lyre 

And sing of love the greatest theme of all : 

Behold, the busy throngs around thee fall ! 
Alas, the painter limns not his desire, 
The poet fails to light the sacred fire : 

The canvas fades, the sweetest stanzas pall. 



53 



ANDANTE. 

The settling sun beyond brown wooded hills 

Illumines the cold gray sky ; 
A carmine haze the purple distance fills 

Which'holds the regal dye. 

The tangled branches of an hoary elm 

Are bathed in censing mist, 
Beneath, warm shadows overwhelm 

The sun's lance when they list. 

Soft touched by gentle zephyrs sweet and low 

Now floats a fire formed cloud,-. 
Which like a crown ta'en from Osiris' brow 

He leaves fair day endowed. 

" The tuneful birds have hied them to their nest 

Th' Angelus sweetly rings 
The lab'ror homeward hales him to his rest, 

This hour no rest me brings." 



54 



" For me no evensong or none's bright beam 

Nor wood with beauty filled, 
No matin bell can waken from its dream 

That soul which once me thrilled." 

" Thou eye, canst see, thou ear, canst hear far 

more 
Than this poor heart can know. 
No art so sweet, no wealth of learning's lore 
Can ever still this throe." 

^ -X- 



OD 



THE FIRST EASTER MORN, 

Like touches of an angel's frosty breath 
The opal mists enrich the sparkling down : 
Far 'yond the hill in silence rests the town 
And on the crest, a cross's shade beneath, 
A soldier sleeps, his sword within his sheath. 
The grave is rent ! the Suff'ring Son has 

flown ! 
Ah, where is He whose cerements are strewn 
On purple rocks where rests a glorious wreath 
Of lilies pale 'gainst virgin's robe of blue. 
Which like a type forever seems to stand ? 

Ah many days of bleak and chilly rain 
Have sped to give those flow'rs their pearly hue ; 
What show^'rs of blood shall fall o'er ev'ry 
land, 
To 'venge Thy death, Thou Conq'ror over Pain ! 



.M. JA 



56 



SUNSET MEMORY. 

A bow of bright raid brilliant burning might 

Illumes the west : the fire-bridge streaming 

first 
Adown the clouds whose darker shades delight 
To shoot in gray and sapphire streaks, which 

burst 

In flaminp- forms, where like a red shield 
nursed. 

An orb of molten metal m.eets our sight : 

The blood-red m^ass now heaves and throbs while 
night 

Doth stay her hand. Rose coloured clouds 
immersed 

In ruddy gold seem weary of ascent 

And float far on the zenith, listless, down, 

Like steam from burning ocean which may not 

Be quenched. The wind doth lull around the 
spot 

Slate coloured shapes whose shoulders now 

present 
Dim sunset glories while the sea the)' crown. 



A LEGEND OF DANTE, 

I. 
Beyond the sea, 'neath vast cathedral vault 
The poet stood : the painted window bright 
Poured on the throng a misty holy light : 
He heard — through incense smoke, the march 

and halt 
Of chime and chant, the bread made God, the 

word 
Of prayer by sinful lips intoned — the lyre 

That groping man hath struck, by Persia's fire 
In Druid groves, on Gunga's sands: he heard 
The Muzzim's call to prayer, the battle cries 
Of Peter's hosts, the Naz'renes dying sighs. 
He bowed and worshipped as was read the 
word 
"Orates Fratres." While his sick soul lies 
Communing with the Over Soul in sooth 
That he had long before besought for truth, 



kS 



II. 

(Mere outer forms quench not the thirsty land,) 
Lost in his thoughts the poet viewed in fright 
A scene that fain would turn his fancy's flight : 

Leading an ape, a jester took his stand 
Then turned his back upon the altar's flame: 

The court-fool stood beside a sculptured 
• shrine 

And cap and bells threw at the bard divine, 
Saying, " No matter what we do, the same 
Will be excused in us," then crossed his breast 

And muttered ribald words that merit doom 

Of sacrilege. The poet knelt still in the gloom 
Then rose and haled him from his pest. 

Oh Satire ! thou art homage justly paid 

By Commonplace to lofty Genius' shade ! 



S'J 



BY THE BREAKERS. 

I. 

The shadows fall upon the shore and night 
With argus eyes now turns the twilight breeze 
On shingly beach where sighs through dusk 
the sea's 

Low moan. Lone in the gloom I stand with 
light 

From sky pour'd down erstwhile to dream the 
sight 
Of golden streak in far sea line : myst'ries 

Unknow^n, the timeless land beyond the plain 
Of dim horizon and the shipless waste 
Of waters, th' quiv'ring spanse of silver chased 

In fickle forms of beauty rare, stars slain 
To rise renew'd, not as the white sails taste 

The shaken surge to speed no more again — 
Upon that sea come ever voy'gers bold 

Brinsfin.? the watcher tales of land untold ! 



60 



II. 
Aye, ages gone upon that shipless sea 

Piercing morn's mist that wrapt the purple 
field 

Before the cyclop's eye like burning shield 
Made wraiths arise and fly in ghostly glee, 
There came a galley decked like jubilee 

Of Cherubim and Seraphim revealed 
To give poor man the news he long had sought : 

Blithe were the trav'lers, stalwart was the 
crew, 

They chanted psiams as into sight they grew ; 
The watcher grim beheld as in dim thought 
A sudden flash — light into life was bronght ! 

Then on a shoal the valiant craft askew 
Sank in the sands nor was a voice there left — 
The turbid waves rushed o'er the fatal cleft ! 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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